


black magic

by snitchesandtalkers (orphan_account)



Category: Fall Out Boy, LA Devotee - Panic! at the Disco (Music Video), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Blood, Gore, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture, alternate universe - la devotee music video, la devotee, la devotee music video, shitty lol, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/snitchesandtalkers
Summary: for once, mikey doesn’t fall in love with the man who kidnapped him. instead, he’ll do whatever it takes for him to get back to his daughter and brother, even if it involves assisting a cult leader or killing a seemingly innocent man.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> posted from @thelastblews on wattpad

Mikey barely remembered being knocked out. In fact, he barely remembered the events leading up to it. It seemed cliched; blacking our and getting kidnapped by some cult or whatever. Mikey liked to think it was the plot for a Lifetime movie- just throw in a little incest and some more murder, and bam, you'd have a plot- but the reality of it was terrifying. 

Waking up, gagged and bound in that damn wooden chair was one moment he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. The stranger's voice teasing him, right behind his ear. "Mikey... Wakey wakey, Mikey..."

It sent shivers down his spine. He didn't want to be here; he wanted to be back at home, with Gerard and Frank and Ray and Rowan and everyone else. Fuck, what was Gerard doing now? Was he freaking out over Mikey’s absence? How long had Mikey even been gone for? Questions raced through his brain as he began panting. "Fuck! Fuck! Let me out of here, you sick bastard!"

"Oh, Mikey," The voice cooed behind his ear. the bound man made a face, disgusted by the moment. Why had him of all people been the one to get kidnapped? Why had he been pulled away from his life and dragged into the sick fuck's one? “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey... I wouldn't give your superiors orders."


	2. one

The blood dripped, slowly but surely into the basin that sat in the middle of the room. It sounded like teardrops hitting the floor repeatedly; only at a slower and steadier pace than how the victim's tears usually fell. The sound could be considered as annoying to some, but to Pete it comforted him and made him remember why he was doing what he did.

It reminded him of the sacrifices he had taken to be here; the lives he had taken, the rules he had broke, the blood that had stained his hands. It was both a cruel, but soothing memory for the man. 

Pete sat below the basin, arms crossed in an 'X' position across his chest. His legs were crossed, and his eyes were closed. He mumbled words in a foreign language under his breath, growing louder in volume with each syllable. " _Sanguinem, quod exundat ex nostris, et victimas, et maculas animae erit in perpetuum esse sacrificium; a memoria, quod fecimus_."

A burning sensation began to grow in Pete’s eyes. It felt like flames from the deepest pits of Hell were creeping from his heart and behind his eyes. He didn't open them, through. Instead, he repeated the line; this time, in English rather than Latin. "The blood that spills from our victims and stains our souls will forever be a sacrifice; a memory of what we have done."

Pete hissed the words, the second time quieter than the first, foreign version. He felt his body twitch a bit, but continued on. " _Praeteritum actiones erit adsuetum nobis ad aeternitatem, sed ad moram et a memoria nostra peccata et urbanitate_ ," His voice was gurgled, as if there was some sort of liquid or mucus growing in his throat. Pete felt his lips tug at a small smile; this was what he wanted. "Past actions will haunt us for all eternity, but to stay and a memory of our sins and accomplishments..."

His eyes immediately shot open, head flying back and slamming against the stone basin. "Fuck!" He coughed into his hand, watching the murky-red liquid stain his hands. "Urie! I need you to capture a man by the name of Mikey Way for me. keep him alive. I need to speak to him."


	3. two

"Let me go!" The man screamed, thrashing against the ropes that held him to his chair. "Let me fucking go! Why do you need me here? I haven't done anything to get involved with any of this fucking cult-shit!"

Brendon smiled, pressing the play button on the camera that he stood behind. "It’s all for good fun, Mikey. You’ll make a huge difference when the days of Hell’s reign comes."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Mikey hissed, shaking his head vigorously. "I... I have a life! I have a brother and a band and a fucking child!"

Brendon moved around the camera to the back of Mikey’s chair. He pulled the bandana away from his eyes and moved it to his mouth. "That will teach you to shut up," Brendon drawled, moving to the front of mikey. "Trust me; there are plenty of worse things that could happen to you than being gagged, Mikey."

"Fuck you!" Mikey growled through his gag. It wasn't very eligible, but Brendon had dealt with enough kidnappees to understand exactly what he was saying.

"I’d rather not," He retorted, moving backwards and crossing his arms. "Sex with a prisoner is, quite honestly, really fucking gross."

A muffled snort came from Mikey. "I’m not saying it's wrong or anythi-"

"Urie!" A voice snapped from behind Mikey. Mikey craned his neck to see who was behind him, but was not able to turn around as far as he had hoped for.

Brendon’s eyes grew wide when he saw who was at the door. "Yes, Mr. Wentz?"

"Your time is over." Mr. Wentz, or the voice Mikey recognized as one who taunted him when he first woke up, said. "Get out. It’s my turn with our new little... Guest."


	4. three

"You are Michael Way, correct?" Mr. Wentz- Mikey preferred calling him 'the voice', though- questioned. "It would be a shitstorm if you weren't."

"What does it matter to you?" The words came out muffled. Mikey was still thrashing in his bounds, twitching his head when he felt a hand near his face from behind him. The hand brushed against his cheek as it pulled the bandana from his mouth. It was smooth, compared to the roughness Mikey would have imagined of a cult leader. He assumed it was a cult, at least. 

"That answered my question, Mikey," The voice chuckled. Mikey heard footsteps walk around his chair, until they stopped right in front of him. He kept his eyes shut; he didn't want to see the man who held him captive, no matter how soft his fucking hands were. He agreed with what the first man said; that sex with prisoners- or, in Mikey’s case, captors- was disgusting. Feeling anything except for hatred towards the people who pulled you away from your family and life was utterly wrong, in Mikey’s opinion. "I have a few questions for you," Mikey didn't say anything; instead, he glared at the man. "I’m pete, by the way. Call me whatever you want. I don't care."

"Okay, asshole," Mikey spat, opening his eyes for a mere second. He wanted to close them right away, but he decided to take in the image of Pete. Maybe he wouldn't be as scary as Mikey’s mind had made him.

Pete was short. That was the first thing Mikey noticed. He was clad in black; a black shirt, black leather jacket, and black skinny jeans. Mikey could take an easy guess that he had at least one tattoo; it would help him up the 'punk' look he was clearly going for, but was ruined by the bright pink hair he had. Mikey tried to hold in a snort, but eventually let it out. "Dude... You look like a fucking fairy-"

He cut himself off, eyes widening as he realized just who he was talking to; a man who probably led the thing that was obviously a cult that had stolen mikey. "I- uh- didn't mean that- please don't kill me, fuck-"

"I’m not gonna kill you," Pete sighed, rolling his eyes. "Not yet, at least. I just have... Questions accumulating around your involvement with Patrick Vaughn Stumph."


	5. four

Even Mikey, himself, would admit he's a terrible liar. Not in general, but when he was being held prisoner. "W-who?"

"Patrick Vaughn Stumph?" Pete raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I recommend you give me the answers that I want, Mikey."

"I-“ Mikey thought of the quickest response that he could; one that would spare a couple minutes of his life. "I don't know a Patrick 'Vaughn Stumph’. I know a Patrick Martin Stump, though. That’s his real name."

Pete smiled a bit. "I see why he goes by 'Vaughn' instead of Martin. His parents clearly weren't paying attention when they named him-"

"Why do you need to know about him?" Mikey asked, cutting his captor off. "As far as I know, Patrick hasn't done anything."

"You don't know a lot," Pete began, pacing back in forth in front of Mikey. He was scratching the back of his neck, and Mikey saw his sleeve fall down a bit. he had a tattoo in the shape of a triangle with a crown on it on his inner, right wrist. It was small, but noticeable. "But you are correct. He hasn't done anything."

"Then-" Mikey started fighting against the leather straps another time. "Why am I here?"

"That has a simple answer," Pete shrugged his shoulders a bit, crossing his arms across his chest like an 'X’, before continuing on. "Patrick’s... Blood will be a key play in our goal. You happened to know him, and you seem to be a well educated man, Mikey. Simple enough, right?"

"No, not really," Mikey spat, glaring at Pete. "You pulled me from my fucking life!"

"We’ve all taken sacrifices to get here, Mikey," Pete sighed. "I’ve killed, and beaten, and hurt. Look where I am now."

"At the top of some sadistic-ass cult? Just fucking murder me already," Mikey said, closing his eyes. 

He heard Pete pull something from his pocket, but he didn't dare look. The thing went back into his pocket almost as quickly as it had came. "Don’t say things like that, Mikey. You’ll regret them soon."


	6. five

Images flashed through Pete’s head as he slept. They weren't disturbing- not to him, at least. They were unnerving, though. He never got visions during night; only when he was performing seances and awakenings. He thrashed in his bed, throwing the blankets and sheets off of his bed. He screamed until his throat became raw and until he finally managed to wake himself up. Even then, he still screamed, unable to wash the images and memories from his head. "Fuck-"

He rubbed his eyes, stumbling out of his bed and into the bathroom that connected to his room. He silently thanked himself for choosing the soundproof walls, or else Brendon would have been in his room immediately to see if he was okay.

" _Nos sunt peccatores_... We are the sinners." Pete spoke to himself, raising his head to look at himself in the mirror. Blood stained his hands and face and clothes. He shook his head quickly, squinting his eyes shut. " _Nos sunt devotum ad omnia impia_. We are devotees to all things unholy."

Pete opened his eyes, looking back in the mirror. He was normal. He wasn't stained or dirty. He was himself. " _Nos sunt, qui posuit hoc est, ut cinis, et vicissim mundi praepostere_. We are the ones who will set this thing to ash, and turn the world inside out."


	7. six

"Your blood shall stain my fucking soul," Pete mumbled, fumbling with the lock on mikey's door. He didn't want to startle the man by barging in; instead, he knocked quietly on the door and opened it. "Morning, Mikey."

Mikey was silent, staring at a point in the wall. "My daughter."

"What about her?" Pete raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. He didn't show sympathy for tearing Mikey from his life; Pete’s life had been destroyed long before Mikey had come along. He saw it as an opportunity to keep someone else from absorbing power. Mikey was someone he wanted to keep under his wing; kind of like Brendon. 

"I..." Mikey sniffled. It was the first time Pete had send him cry while he was captive; Pete would give it to him for being able to last the four days. "I left her. She’s probably scared... My brother's probably looking after her."

"Damn," Pete snorted. 

"You’re a bastard," Mikey hissed. "You show no goddamn remorse for me. You laugh at the fact that I have a life. You mock me for missing my family. You torture me-"

"I could do a lot worse than keeping you tied up and providing you food and water, Mikey."

"-And at the end of the fucking day, what does that make you? A cold hearted bastard. You’ve never loved anyone. You could never love anyone."

"You don't fucking know me." Pete slammed his fist to his thigh, throwing his head backwards. "I’d shut up, Mikey. unless you want to die."

"It would be better than being trapped here with you," Mikey growled at Pete. 

Pete simply smiled. "Like I said; you don't know anything. You don't know anything about me or why I’m doing this. You don't know anything about pain. You don't know anything about death. You can't understand it until you face it, Mikey. I’d keep that in mind for a while."


	8. seven

It was the first time Pete had sat down in the room with Mikey. The captive was shocked at first, but eventually grew used to the unwanted company. "I... I had kids, too."

"Let me guess," Mikey rolled his eyes. "You killed them?"

Pete was silent for a moment, gazing at the black wall. "I didn't kill them. It wasn't me."

"Who was it then?" Mikey spat. The human being who sat beside him was sadistic. Disgusting. "The fucking doorknob?"

"Bronx, Saint, and Marvel Wentz." Pete didn't answer Mikey’s question, playing with a loose thread on his leather jacket. "They were my everything."

"And you ruined that," Mikey chuckled dryly. "I assume you did, at least."

"It wasn't me..." Pete pulled his legs into his chest and shook his head slowly. "I saved them... It was the only way they'd stay out of this."

Pete lunged forward, grabbing Mikey’s shoulders and shaking them a bit. "It was the only way they'd stay safe! They had to die. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. I’m doing this for them. They need to be avenged."

Mikey tried to push Pete off of him. "Pete... Calm down. Please..." 

"It’s Patrick’s fucking fault!" Pete yelled, jumping away. "He made me do this! It’s his fault! I lied, Mikey! Patrick did every fucking thing. He’s the fucking reason why I’m here! He’s the reason why you're here."


	9. eight

"Patrick didn't do anything to you," Mikey snarled. He was becoming defensive, but so was Pete. Mikey could see that. "You’re just... Insane. Crazy. Nuts."

"I am not," Pete argued. He had moved away from Mikey. "He- he made me kill them, Mikey," There was a crazed look in the cult leader's eyes, but something strange about it made Mikey want to trust him. “He gave me the option of a shitty life or unlimited power. What do you think I choose? I wanted the best for my kids and my wife- I didn't really love her but I still wanted her to stay safe- and power could grant that. Do you not see where i'm coming from?"

Mikey cursed. "I do. I do, Pete. It’s just... How could Patrick do that? He’s a normal human being- albeit short, but so are you."

"I don't know..." Pete mumbled, scratching at his neck. Mikey saw the tattoo again when he did. "I don't know. I just want him to... To pay for what he made me do."

Mikey wanted to make a comment about how much he sounded like Taylor Swift after she declared her old self dead, but felt it wouldn't be appreciated at the moment. "Look, Pete, there's not much I can do to help you. Please... Let me go back to my family so I don't have to live through what you did."

"How about this-" Pete crossed his arms in the 'X' symbol another time. "How about if you help me kill Patrick, I’ll let you go? I’ll even try to wipe your memories of this."

"I- I don't know." Mikey stuttered. He couldn't kill his friend, even if it did depend on his own life. 

"Please, Mikey..."

He though about Rowan, probably terrified of her father's safety. He thought of Gerard. He even though of Kristin, who had probably long-forgotten about Mikey. 

Mikey took a deep inhale in. "Deal."

the smile that spread across pete's face made mikey feel like he was making a deal with the devil; for all he knew, he could have been.


	10. nine

Mikey was obligated to keep his end of the deal. He knew that Pete would be pissed at him if he broke it, and heartbroken. He didn't necessarily care about Pete’s emotions; he cared about being murdered and the fact that he was still a sane human being with a sense of empathy. "This is fucked up."

Pete rolled his eyes, fiddling with a small dagger in his hands. "It’s not... not the worst I’ve done. I promise I’ll let you go after this. After his blood spills onto my hands."

"Goddamn," Mikey inched away from Pete, shuddering a bit. He was extremely uncomfortable. "Okay. Patrick... He normally hangs out at the musi-"

"I know," Pete snapped, shoving the blade up the sleeve of his leather jacket. "I need you to get him to me. And then you're free. Tell whoever you want about this fucking cult, too. It’ll all be over by the end of the day."

"Oh?" Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Okay, then. Won’t it be a bit suspicious if I’m the one leading him, though? I’ve been gone- for what, a week?- and I’m sure a missing persons report has been filed."

"Tell Patrick you needed a break if he asks. If he doesn't, don't worry." Pete sighed. "Then- like I said- tell whoever you want. The authorities couldn't do anything worse to me than what I’ve done to myself."

"That’s..." Mikey trailed off. "That’s dark."

"I have a naturally dark personality."

"I know." Mikey rolled his eyes. Speaking to the man who held him captive was easier than before, after discovering his story; though, he still felt anxiety when he did. "Patrick is on his way... He should be, at least."

"Great," A cruel smile spread across Pete’s. "Time to make him pay for what he's put me through."


	11. ten

Mikey didn't watch as Pete drove the blade through Patrick’s heart. He couldn't watch. He couldn't watch the way Pete sighed in pleasure. He couldn't watch Pete carry the body to the basin. He stayed still, eyes close, thinking about seeing his brother and his daughter. That was all he wanted.

He only seemed to pay attention when Pete began chanting in Latin. Mikey kept his eyes glued together, but listened to what Pete was saying. " _Nos autem ambulabimus in flammis inferni iterum; sed pro descendit, et nos suscitabit et in terra usque ad caelum et terram et disperdam omnia; cum sint in processu_!"

His Latin classes in high school did not seem to pay off for understanding the other man. Pete was silent for a moment, panting heavily. "We walk in the flames of hell once again; but instead of down, we will raise the dust up to the heavens and the earth and destroy everything; when they are in the process!"

Mikey’s eyes opened immediately. "Fuck-" He cursed as Pete began to finish the chant. 

Pete stood at the basin, holding Patrick’s a bowl of Patrick’s blood above it and slowly tilting it into the stone object. Patrick’s body was kicked to the side as if it was nothing; Mikey could assume it probably would be nothing in only a matter of minutes. "You fucking lied to me, Pete!"

Pete didn't respond. He continued chanting, the atmosphere of the room growing darker and warmer with each word. Mikey wasn't sure where Brendon was; in fact, he hadn't seen the other boy in days. Maybe Pete had killed him or something as a sacrifice. He’d never know. "You lied!"

The ground beneath them began to shake. Pete stopped chanting, and opened his eyes, staring directly at mikey. his eyes were blood red; an extremely demonic color. "I told you that you'd be free after you helped me. You’ve been welcome to leave since we arrived back here. You just decided to stay a bit longer than you expected, Mikey. I never lied."

"Fuck!" Mikey cursed as a crack grew in the ground. A glob of lava sprouted up and landed on his leg, burning through his pants and skin. He cursed, clutching his leg in pain.

Pete stood in the center of it all, smiling as the world crumbled around him. Blood stained his face and hands and teeth and his clothes. Mikey mentally imagined it staining his soul, too. “I avenged you, kids. I’m so sorry for everything." Pete stood back, watching the ground swallow his surroundings whole. He watched Mikey cling onto anything he could find to help him stay above ground. He watched Mikey fall through a crack, meeting demise as soon as he would make contact with the lava. "I love you, guys."

Unlimited power was nothing when you were the king and you had nobody to rule over. It was nothing when you were the king of nothing; because that was what Pete was after the world around him collapsed. The king of both everything and nothing all at once.


End file.
